


Nobody's Business

by punkteddybear



Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Drinking, F/F, M/M, Party, Partying, bi characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-29
Updated: 2016-04-30
Packaged: 2018-05-03 22:36:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5309621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/punkteddybear/pseuds/punkteddybear
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve throws a party and also has a small crush on Bucky Barnes (but nobody needs to know that).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nobody's Business

**Author's Note:**

> Enjoy!

It was a miracle nobody had called the cops yet, Steve mused. The music had long since passed “deafening” and had wandered into the territory of “who knows what song is playing but I can feel the bass in my teeth”, people were somehow shouting louder than the massive noise bellowing from the speakers, and he had lost count of how many of his plates now lay smashed on the floor after an enthusiastic round of “plate frisbee” (a game that he had been drunkenly assured was a real thing and not some two minute old idea that could only be created by reckless amounts of alcohol). The teen sat on the counter and swung his feet back and forth, trying to judge if he was drunk at all, when he suddenly realized someone had jumped up next to him. He almost choked on his beer when he realized who it was; Bucky Barnes, the cocky asshole who Steve had an embarrassing crush on. Bucky leaned in close, a sly grin on his face, and shouted into Steve’s ear:

“This party kinda sucks, huh?”

Distracted by Bucky’s lips that close to his face, Steve almost nodded before realizing what he had just said.

“Dude, it’s my fucking party,” he tried to deadpan, but came off looking a bit more amused than he was trying to be when a giggle slipped past his lips. Maybe he was a bit more drunk than he thought.

Bucky’s eyes widened, and he burst out laughing. Steve thought he would reply but instead, he just jumped off the counter and disappeared back into the throng of people.  
About five minutes later (or maybe thirty minutes later; Steve’s perception of time was shot when he was drunk), red and blue flashing lights shone through the windows. Steve sighed, and stood by the door, waiting for the impatient knock he knew he would need to strain his ears to hear.  
…  
After the cops showed up, most people left. Steve spent some time making sure everyone had a ride home, and then finally flopped face first onto his couch. His hand recoiled as it touched something wet (what it was, he didn’t want to know, Future Steve would deal with it). He was about to fall asleep when through his half closed eyes, he noticed a lump on the floor. His eyebrows shot up when he realized it was Bucky. One arm was thrown over his eyes, and he had balled up his leather jacket to put under his head. Part of Steve wanted to pull him up, put him on the couch, tuck him in, make breakfast for him the next morning...after all, that’s how all couples got together in romantic comedy. And, Steve thought wryly, my life is weird enough, it could only really be a romantic comedy. But another part of Steve wanted to pour cold water on Bucky’s face, hand him his jacket, and push him out the door. He compromised between the two (it wasn’t really good form to kick your crush out of your apartment now was it) and grabbed a blanket from his bed, haphazardly throwing it over the lightly snoring man. That would be good enough. And it really wasn’t anyone’s business if Steve lightly kissed Bucky’s forehead before heading to his bedroom.


	2. I Love It When You Look At Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Bucky and Steve are actually middle-schoolers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A huge thank you to my wonderful beta, QueenOfAces! Check out her tumblr, sans-of-aces as well. Enjoy the fic!

The minute Bucky woke up, he was greeted by an almost blinding headache, a stomach that was spinning like a washing machine, and the unmistakable taste of shitty alcohol sitting in his mouth. He was dimly aware of the fact that he was on the floor, but couldn’t be bothered to care, his attention more focused on the aspirin and glass of water sitting next to his head. He swallowed the pills and downed the water in one go, then let his head hit the ground before falling back asleep.

He woke up again some time later, this time with a head that was slightly less mad at him but still with the taste of cheap whiskey in his mouth. Now that Bucky felt like he could move without possibly throwing up all over himself, he was able to take note of his surroundings. His leather jacket was lumpy under his head and smelled like cigarette smoke and the various colognes and perfumes of people he’d drunkenly flirted with the night before. A scratchy wool blanket had been tucked around him, and it took him a few seconds to realize that it was not his own. In fact, this was definitely not his apartment. After considering lying on the floor for eternity, Bucky stood up and started to walk around, hunting for clues about where he was.

He remembered bits and pieces of the party last night; it had been organized by Steve Rogers, a skinny little kid who barely passed for fifteen, let alone the twenty years he actually was. Bucky would never admit it, but he found him kinda cute, despite barely knowing him. They had a few mutual friends, but rarely talked. To be honest, he didn’t really know anything about the guy, besides the fact he had floppy dirty blonde hair and light blue eyes, and was majoring in Art History. And he was definitely straight. Probably straight. They were always straight.

It took Bucky a few minutes, but he eventually figured out that he was in Steve’s apartment. And really, who else could own this apartment? Steve was probably the only college-aged guy who didn’t leave a teetering pile of week-old dirty dishes in the sink. And he was probably the only college student who would cover up a drunken stranger with a blanket. Granted, Bucky couldn’t be sure it was Steve who had done that, but he couldn’t think of anyone else who would. Steve seemed to be made of sunshine and puppies, the proud owner of a giant heart filled to the brim with pure kindness. Despite not knowing much about him, Bucky felt that he could trust Steve with anything.

_What the fuck, you barely even know the guy_ , the nagging voice in Bucky’s head sneered. _You went to his party and then slept on his floor, and now you think you can trust him? Idiot._

Bucky left the apartment before Steve could come back, wearing his clothes from the night before and and lighting a fresh cigarette.

…

“Those are going to kill you,” Nat huffed, plucking the butt from between his fingers and smashing it under the toe of her sneaker.

“Yeah, okay,” Bucky muttered, not throwing his usual fit over a wasted cigarette.

Nat looked at him quizzically. “Hey, what’s up?”

“Huh?” He looked up.

“Earth to Buck. What’s going on? You’re kind of distant.”

Bucky shrugged. “Nothing much. Just hungover.”

A smile snuck its way onto Natasha’s face. “You were at Steve’s party.”

He shrugged. “Yeah. Why, does it matter?”

“No.” She paused, playing with the cuff of her coat sleeve. “Did you guys kiss?”

Bucky almost choked. “What? No! What gave you that idea?”

The redhead snorted. “I don’t know, maybe the monster crush you have on him. And the fact that you get remarkably handsy when you’re drunk.”

“I do not get handsy,” he scoffed. “And I definitely don’t have a crush on Steve.”

Natasha shrugged.

“I don’t!”

“Whatever you say.”

Bucky sighed annoyedly. “I do not have a crush on Steve Rogers.”

A momentary silence followed.

“He’s your type,” she remarked coyly. “The whole blonde hair blue eyes thing.”

“That’s not my type.”

“Then what is your type?” Natasha challenged.

Bucky stuttered. “My type is just...men! Any men. That are hot.”

“And how would you describe a hot man?”

Bucky just shrugged.

“You don’t want to answer me because the answer is ‘blue eyes and soft blonde hair’. The answer is Steve.”

“Shut up Natasha,” Bucky growled. “I have class. We’ll talk later.”

As he walked away, Natasha yelled out “Don’t forget to give your boyfriend a kiss hello!”

Bucky flipped her off.

…

When Steve arrived back home after a full day of classes, he was slightly disappointed to see that Bucky wasn’t waiting for him. He hadn’t expected him to still be there, but it would have been nice to see him.

He walked through the empty apartment to his bedroom, letting his bag fall to the floor and grabbing his sketchbook from the bedside table. The radiator hissed, sending waves of heat throughout the room, but it didn’t stand a chance again the stubborn New York cold. Despite being inside, Steve still wore his coat and gloves. It was a habit that had been a part of him since as long as he could remember; years of his mother pulling a hat tight over his ears and telling him that the heat in the building would be fixed soon but that for now he would just have to layer still stuck with him. But layering could only do so much, and with the chill of twenty years of New York winters residing in his bones, Steve found himself shivering as he let his pencil fly across the page.

He fell asleep that night curled up under a mountain of blankets. The bottom layer was the grey wool blanket that Bucky had slept under the night before, and Steve dreamed of falling asleep in his arms.

…

“You know Bucky has a giant crush on you.”

Steve inhaled his scalding coffee and spent a good thirty seconds spluttering and heaving for air. Through his coughs he managed to gasp a hoarse “Shut up.”

“He does!” Natasha grinned. “We were talking about it the other day.”

Steve shot her a glance. “By talking about it, do you mean that he explicitly said he has a crush on me, or did you just assume it?”

“Well he did deny it.” Natasha said sheepishly, and Steve rolled his eyes. “But you should have seen his face! He was all red and embarrassed, it was great. Any time someone mentions your name around him he loses it,” she grinned. “I would know, I do it a lot.”

“Would he say yes if I asked him out?”

Natasha’s eyes widened. “Yes! He definitely would. You guys would be perfect together. What’s the date gonna be?”

“Natasha, calm down. I haven’t even asked him yet. I don’t know if I will.”

She made a face at him, then continued to sip her tea.

“How’s Eleanor?” Steve asked. He knew he had changed the subject successfully when Natasha’s face lit up.

“She’s really good. We’re really good. Her sister got a dog, and now she wants one too. God, she’s so cute. The way she talks sometimes, you’d think she’s all wide-eyed and innocent, but Steve, that girl knows her way around-”

“Natasha, what did I tell you about the details of your sex life?” Steve cringed.

“That I should keep them to myself because you’re jealous I’m getting laid all the time,” she smirked.

Steve sighed. “Those weren’t my exact words, but yeah. I don’t need to hear about how many hickies she gave you and where.”

“Lighten up, old man. You’ll be in a better mood once you and Bucky are fucking. When’s the last time you had sex anyways?”

Steve blushed. “None of your business. Can we stop talking about sex? And Bucky? And everything related?” He sighed, pushing his hair out of his face. “Talk more about Eleanor.”

Natasha obliged.

…

Bucky was going through his mailbox when a small folded piece of paper fell out. Upon opening it, he saw a sketch of a coffee mug with a note written in the bottom right corner.

_Do you want to get coffee sometime? -Steve_

A phone number had been scribbled at the bottom.

 **  
** The sky was grey and raining, but a giant smile stood proudly on Bucky’s face for the rest of the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for all the comments and kudos on the first chapter! Because of all you lovely people, I am definitely continuing this. I hope to be updating it every two weeks, but that may fluctuate. Feel free to comment below, I love hearing from you.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Completely un-beta'd

**Bucky:** Nat

**Bucky:** Help

**Bucky:** I fucked up

**Natasha:** What did you do?

**Bucky:** Come over

…

“Buck?” Natasha let herself into his apartment, anxiously calling out to her friend.

“In the bedroom,” came Bucky’s muffled voice.

She made her way to his room, and sat down next to his defeated form on the bed. “What happened?” She said softly.

Bucky only groaned in response.

“Buck, you gotta tell me what’s wrong if you want to help.”

A disgruntled sigh pushed its way past Bucky’s lips and he sat up, looking dejected. “So you know how I went on a date with Steve?”

Natasha nodded.

“I spilled coffee on him.”

She barely stopped herself from laughing, biting her lip.   
“Don’t laugh!” Bucky pouted, and the fact that he was seriously sticking out his bottom lip made it even funnier. “I spilled hot coffee all over him and he got so embarrassed and just went home to change,” he groaned, flipping back onto his stomach and burying his face in his pillow once again.

Natasha composed herself, putting a reassuring hand on his back. “It’s okay  _ yenot _ . I’m sure it’ll be okay.” When she was met with silence, she continued. “Have you texted him since then?” Bucky shook his head, and she rolled her eyes. “You idiot. Text him right now, I’m sure it will be fine.” Bucky shook his head again, and this time Natasha sighed, getting off the bed. “Fine. I’ll call him. Where’s your phone?”

Bucky shot up off the bed, hoping to stop Natasha before she embarrassed him completely, but she already had his phone and was calling Steve. He glared at her as they stood in silence, the faint ringing of the phone the only noise in the room. “Bucky?” A faint voice came from the speaker, and Natasha smirked, handing the phone to her friend with her eyebrows raised high, challenging him. Bucky took the phone reluctantly, still glaring as he answered.

“Uh...hi, yeah, this is Bucky,” he stuttered.

“I know,” Steve laughed. “What’s up?”

Bucky’s cheeks warmed. “I just...wanted to apologize for earlier. For spilling coffee on you,” he winced.

“Oh that? No harm done, it’s totally fine. I just feel bad for having to run out.”

Bucky’s cheeks were burning now. “It was my fault, I’m really sorry. I understand if you don’t want to go out again but-”

“Are you kidding?” Steve interrupted. “I definitely want to go out with you again. But maybe somewhere without hot liquids,” he joked.

“That- that sounds great,” Bucky managed to choke out. “I’ll text you when I’m free?”

“Yeah, do that.” Bucky could hear the grin in Steve’s voice. “See you soon, hopefully.”

“Yeah,” Bucky nodded. “Okay. Uh..talk to you later, bye.” He hung up quickly, eyes wide.

Natasha eyed him, her smirk having only grown throughout the conversation. “So? Did I fix everything again?”

“Oh, shut up,” he grumbled, but couldn’t help smiling a little, the possibility of a second date making his stomach flutter nervously.

…

Steve hadn’t thought the date had gone that badly. Sure, Bucky had spilled coffee on him, but it really wasn’t that big of a deal; he would have stayed for the whole thing if his clothes weren’t covered in Bucky’s drink. But when Bucky didn’t text him afterwards, he got worried. What if he had embarrassed him? What if he thought Steve was an idiot for going home to change? But the phone call had erased all of his doubt. Bucky sounded so nervous, so sincere, so...adorably flustered. The “fuck you” attitude he seemed to have permanently adopted had disappeared in those moments, and Steve found himself wishing to see Bucky without the hard shell again. His phone buzzed with a text, distracting him from his pining.

 

**Bucky:** Would tomorrow at 1 work?

**Bucky:** For the makeup date

**Steve:** Yeah, it would. Coffee take 2, or something else?

**Bucky:** Let’s do something else. I know a little restaurant we could go to for a late lunch?

**Steve:** Sounds great. Just text me the address.

 

Steve’s heart jumped nervously, and he sat down to draw, hands itching to create. Two hours later, he had filled a page of his sketchbook with fierce, blue-grey eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so this is the last time I'll update this fic; I'm just no longer feeling the characters. Sorry to anyone who really wanted to see this continue <3

**Author's Note:**

> So this was my first Stucky fic, and I'm liking this au...let me know if you think I should continue this, maybe make it part of a series! Also maybe take two seconds to comment; I'm always open to feedback :)


End file.
